


Blood-Stained Claws

by AikoIsari, reminiscence



Series: Digimon No Verse [9]
Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Blood Drinking, Canon-Typical Violence, Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2018-05-14 21:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 6,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5760370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AikoIsari/pseuds/AikoIsari, https://archiveofourown.org/users/reminiscence/pseuds/reminiscence
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tailmon has the chance and she takes it. Now the eighth child and Taichi's little sister is dead, and Vamdemon's victory is imminent. It's over...so why can't Tailmon forget? Who is that voice whispering in her ear, that shadow still out of sight? And why hasn't Vamdemon yet won? Is there still hope alive after all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Anyone Home?

**Author's Note:**

> We'll be trading chapters for this one, so the odd chapters are written by one of us and the even ones by the other. Can you guess who's who?
> 
> This is written for the what-if challenge at the Digimon Fanfiction Challenges Forum where both of us are mods. The what-if we chose is: What if Tailmon had killed Hikari when she had the chance?
> 
> Warnings: there's a bit of blood in this chapter. Just in case any of you are squeamish.
> 
> Enjoy, and please let us know what you think!

Taichi was hot and sweaty and annoyed. All day they'd searched for the eight Chosen, but all they'd managed to find were Vamdemon's henchmen looking for him or her as well. They had a lot more to show: a hastily welded and precariously leaning Tokyo Tower – considering Kabuterimon couldn't just let it fall onto the city with people in the vicinity or even still inside that tower…

Taichi sighed. At least Agumon was back to being Agumon, which made him feel a little safer. But to think so many of Vamdemon's henchmen were still running about the city, causing who knew what sort of trouble. The seven of them couldn't be everywhere all the time, and if they managed to find the eighth child first –

He quickly shook himself out of that train of thought, then groaned. His feet and head were both killing him, and he couldn't wait for a cool shower and then bed. It wasn't that late, but they'd been walking around all day. Lunch had been salad sandwiches at the stand because it'd been just too hot to digest anything richer. Filling enough when their attention was on other things.

'I'm hungry,' Agumon said at that precise moment.

Taichi laughed; apparently it was only enough for the humans. 'You can grab something to eat when we get home,' he said. 'Who knows; maybe Hikari's baked cookies for you.'

'Ooh, yummy.' Agumon's mouth watered at the very thought and he ran ahead. 'I hope so.'

'Slow down.' The brief respite that had come with laughter quickly faded again. Going home with his sister waiting for him and maybe his mother too, if she wasn't out shopping or at her club, was a peaceful and wonderful idea he'd taken for granted before the Digital World. But now, with everything that had happened, it was a blessing. A place that was still the same and out of Vamdemon's reach, despite everything else. Even if the rest of the world would move on, if Vamdemon's henchmen could search through the night because they weren't human and bound to those same natural laws as the Chosen…but children didn't wander around at night by habit. Being able to search inconspicuously at night would be far more difficult.

That, at least, was something they still had on their side. But there had been Mammothmon, rampaging on the streets of Highten View Terrace. There had been Gesomon, raging through Tokyo Bay. They weren't inconspicuous at all. But that was only two of all those Digimon they'd seen go through the gate. Two of all those Digimon still out there, still searching. 'Do they sleep at all?'

'Huh?' Agumon, who'd already reached the door, turned to his partner. 'Who doesn't sleep?'

'Vamdemon's henchmen.' Taichi caught up and pushed the door. It wasn't shut properly, let alone locked, and Taichi wondered if that meant Hikari had ducked out for a bit, or else his mother had just returned. He didn't think his father could be home yet; it wasn't quite late enough for that.

'I'm back,' he called into the apartment. The sound of the television in the background could be heard, but no reply. 'Mum? Hikari?'

'Maybe they're not home,' Agumon offered, as Taichi toed off his shoes and replaced them with slippers.

'One of them is,' Taichi said tiredly. 'They wouldn't have left the door open otherwise.'

He couldn't hear anything but the television: a news report on the drama at Tokyo Tower it seemed. That knowledge had spread fast. If it was Hikari watching, she might have recognised MetalGreymon from the similarities he bore to his previous digivolutions. It probably was Hikari, if it was the news. Their mother tended to listen on the radio, and the sound was from the living room.

Taichi poked his head through the door. 'Hikari?'

He could see a bit of her brown hair. Yep, that was Hikari all right. Except Agumon was wrinkling his nose. 'What's that smell?'

'What smell?' Taichi sniffed the air. He couldn't smell anything out of the ordinary at all – until he stepped closer to the couch. Not enough to discern it, so he edged closer still. 'Hikari, did you play in the mud –'

He was close enough to see the pink scarf she always wore around her neck, and the blood it had soaked. His heart skipped a beat that moment and his breath got caught in his throat, but then it escaped in a loud panicked cry of 'Hikari!' as he dashed around the couch to her.

And then he froze again, close enough to touch if he stretched his fingers out – but he didn't. He couldn't. She wasn't starting at him, but blankly ahead, at the television screen mindlessly playing on. And blood had dribbled like ketchup from the tear on her neck onto her powder coloured clothes and even onto the whistle she'd loved so very much.

His heart didn't stop beating this time, but screamed so loudly, so fast, it drowned even the television and Agumon's voice out.


	2. In Flux

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, this is the other writer here. One of us will respond to the wonderful comments as soon as we decide how. Until then, know that we thank all of our fans and adore you from the bottoms of our little black hearts. :D And anyway, here is the chapter update. Any and all comments are appreciated.

Tailmon skittered through the human crowd, elation in her paws and her fur tingling like it was being burnt. An odd but tolerable sensation, to say the least. The success was enough to make her purr. The humans who bothered to look by their feet went ignored and she raced to the building.

"What's got you into such a rush?"

The concern in the voice behind her would have rattled her any other time. Not today. "I believe I have made some progress." She tried for neutrality, though pleasure and nausea that should not have been there was vibrant and pulsing and beautiful.

Wizarmon's leather boots touched the ground as he regarded her. She felt a gentle tugging at her brain, prodding like curious fingers at the insides of her ears. Tailmon hissed at him, good mood starting to evaporate.

"Don't burrow your way into my brain!" she snapped, raising her claws. She got that enough from Vamdemon, _thank you._

He raised his hands. "My apologies, but I'd rather not be caught unawares in his court for everyone to see."

Tailmon huffed. She supposed she couldn't blame him for that. "You could just _ask_."

"I could, but you'll lie," he said and she scoffed. Could she be blamed for that?

"Let's just go inside," Tailmon said, stepping towards the door and pushing it open. She didn't despise Wizarmon; he was too relaxed of a person to try even thinking of it. That didn't make him being nosing into her affairs any less obnoxious.

Besides, they would all hear the news soon enough. She'd rather not have to repeat herself.

She padded forward, switching to her back legs so she could concentrate on how it was worded and _not_ on how undeniably quiet it was in their hideout. PicoDevimon's troops had been left behind and killed a long time ago, but even hers... those _buffoons_! Perhaps brainwashing really _was_ the only way to ensure competency.

Tailmon shuddered. That was not comforting.

The wind blew near her ears, (in a building? What a joke.) but she kept walking. She had done it. She had won. She had killed, just like she was meant to do.

Yet her paws ached, heavy with a weight she didn't really understand.

It was only midday, so she knew her master would be resting, having fed mere hours before. She knew that waking him would be a fool's errand, and she didn't want to be battered as PicoDevimon was for trying.

She scurried up to the place where she had slept in the past few days, a pile of bricks warmed by the sun. She curled there in a ball, ignoring the curious, but crestfallen eyes of Wizarmon in the gloom. Tailmon had fulfilled her mission, that was all she needed to do.

"Oi! Tailmon! Are you loafing on the job? Huh?"

Tailmon's ears twitched and she ducked them down again to ignore PicoDevimon. The whiny little batball would get tired of bugging her eventually.

"She's had success," Wizarmon began, raising hie staff to get in the bat's way, but PicoDevimon snorted in his face.

"I'll believe that when I see it."

Tailmon cracked an eye open and scoffed. "I don't have to explain myself to you," she said, a smile curling her mouth. "Only Vamdemon-sama, and that's who I intend to speak to first." She smiled imperiously behind one paw. "Is that a problem for you?"

He sputtered and flew away, leaving Tailmon to hiss in triumph and curl back up in the warmth of the sun.

If she felt the gentle pressure of a hand stroking her fur, she blamed it on Wizarmon.

But the mage was nowhere to be found.


	3. His Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya! Here's the first author back for a sparkly chapter three. We still haven't worked out a way to jointly reply – short of intercontinental telepathy which is made even more complicated by the different timezones and university on both sides of the world – but we'll come up with something soon! Until then, thank you for your awesomeness, interest and support, and here's the next chapter!

Vamdemon was disturbed just before dark by the presence of something just outside chamber. Not his servants – though he had warned them time and time again to not interfere with his rest.

But he knew his servants. All of them. And the presence that had disturbed him was not one of them, though two did linger outside.

Or perhaps linger was the wrong word. One was being rather vocal.

Vamdemon frowned. They knew better than that. He sent a bat in warning, and elicited a shriek. _Picodevimon. And Tailmon too by the sounds of it._

He'd hoped for better from Tailmon, but she'd been quite…inadequate lately. He wondered if he was losing his grip on her.

 _Well, no matter. There's all the time in the world for discipline – once the eighth child is found_.

He opened his eyes slowly and let them drink in the darkness of his quarters, where the accursed burning light of the human world couldn't reach. He'd have to do something about that at some point. It was a weakness after all: a weakness he abhorred like other weaknesses.

But, for now, there was a greater weakness to deal with.

'Why aren't you searching for the Eighth Chosen like the others?' he said, voice low and yet echoing and carrying through the door. It opened with a wave of his hand, and a panicked PicoDevimon and a contemplative Tailmon were revealed.

_Why is she looking at her paws like that?_

Ignoring PicoDevimon's babbling, he addressed her. 'I expect better from you, Tailmon.'

'My Lord.' She looked up, her eyes bright. 'I –'

PicoDevimon laughed. 'Where's that success you were bragging about before?'

Tailmon shot him a look. Vamdemon latched onto the word. 'Success? Of what sort?'

'I – ' Tailmon closed her eyes. 'I believe I have…apprehended the eighth child.'

PicoDevimon all but fell out of the air, and even Vamdemon couldn't keep the surprise off his face. Apprehended? As in killed? It had been that easy.

'She knew about Digimon,' she continued. 'She asked if I was a friend of Agumon's while other humans didn't spare me a second glance.' Her expression scrunched. 'Thought I was a common house pet.'

'Hmm...' It was true. The human race was remarkably ignorant about Digimon, save the Chosen Children. But that was hardly proof. 'And the crest?'

Tailmon touched her chest; the crest copy he'd given her and she'd hung there was noticeably absent.

Vamdemon frowned, and summoned his crimson whip. Both PicoDevimon and Tailmon shrunk back. 'Please, your evilness,' Tailmon begged. 'I lost the crest, but –'

'Fool!' Vamdemon thundered, letting it snap forth and catching her where she'd worn that crest before. PicoDevimon scampered back, well out of reach. 'Without the crest, you have no proof it's the eighth child!'

'I do,' Tailmon sobbed, clutching herself. 'I do have proof.' And from her glove she pulled something out and held it before her.

Vamdemon narrowed his eyes and retracted the whip. On Tailmon's paws lay a digivice, just like the ones those other children carried.

'She stole it off one of the other – ' PicoDevimon scoffed, fear lacing it. Fear of success – because it was proof as strong as there could be without the crest to testify. And that meant Tailmon had won. Yes, it could be one of the other Chosen's – but that was a remarkable feat as well. One PicoDevimon had tried to accomplish and yet had failed.

Vamdemon ignored him

Something began to glow in the chamber as the Ultimate digimon took a step closer to that proof. The crest of light, hidden in the folds of his cloak. With a sudden, wild, growl, he ripped it from his body and tossed it. It flew past Tailmon's ears and clattered onto the steps that ascended towards the lawn above, where it glowed a little less.

The digivice in Tailmon's paws glowed as well, but while it sent PicoDevimon shrieking and flying as far away from both sources of light as he dared, it seemed to do nothing to Tailmon. Indeed, she felt no blistering or burning – but rather, a sense of longing and familiarity…

But Vamdemon was watching her, and that digivice was only her proof, that she'd taken from that girl's house with claws stained in blood.

'Well done, Tailmon.' Vamdemon said finally, as the light began to die, and a crack appeared in the digivice's grey screen. Tailmon watched as it slowly spread like venom, before splintering and causing her, finally, to drop it.

It clattered on the cold hard floor in two pieces. Behind them, on the stairs where no-body was looking, the crest also broke in two.

A smirk began to grow on Vamdemon's face. The eighth digivice and crest were now both destroyed – presumably that meant Tailmon was indeed correct, and the eighth child was dead. He would have liked the honour himself…

But now he could play with the remaining seven to his heart's content.

_But a certain cat still needs to learn the lesson of obedience again._


	4. The Sense I Lack

She awoke in the sky. Below her was fog and above her was the sun. She hovered, looking at each building. She giggled. The people looked like ants.

Why was she up here?

Who was she?

For a moment, these questions were quite important. Then, they were forgotten as a cloud passed overhead, replaced with an eager attempt to fly.

What felt like hours, but was only moments after, the girl touched down on the top of an apartment building, breathless with laughter. Flying. It was incredible, important, amazing.

It should also have been impossible.

With the thought of that word came another: _why am I here?_

Then she realized she had no idea where 'here' was.

With no other ideas, the girl jumped from the building.

An ordinary human would have panicked at the drop, perhaps would not have jumped at all. But the girl was not ordinary. To be honest, she didn't even recall that she was human. The girl reached the street and walked across, the streetlight going completely ignored.

There was somewhere she needed to be, something she should see. So, in her hurry, she flew again, seeking, seeking.

For some reason, the world was growing dark. It wasn't the dark of the setting sun but a color that set a chill down her spine.

Her feet touched down once more and she rubbed her eyes. Apartments, all stacked like a multi-layered sandwich on top of each other. Noise, a wailing sound. A siren. No, a scream. Someone was screaming. Someone was crying.

"Ma'am, you must calm down-"

"Where are you taking her? That is my daughter, what are you doing with her?"

The screaming, the woman screaming, she knew this woman. Her neck felt sticky and wet all of a sudden.

"Mom...?" Hikari whispered, touching her fingers to the back of her neck.

A man was carrying a bundle away into a truck. A bundle about her size.

Her fingers traced painlessly further down and she looked around.

There was something else, someone else.

Hikari couldn't remember. When her hand came away red, she wasn't sure she wanted to.

* * *

Someone was crying again.

From where she sat in the cornerof the apartment, Hikari heard them. They were so far away, further away than her own bloodstains in the now-empty apartment. Before men and women had trampled through, putting tape up and taking pictures of her blood. They hadn't seen her once. One had walked through her foot.

What had happened to her? Did she want to know?

She did want to know who was crying. And looking was better than sitting here.

So she flew away without looking back.

Hikari did not like the sky, all grey and black and heavy. It smelled, it smelled so bad, but like the crying, was distant. Like a lesson more than a real thing.

She reached a roof and walked through the door. There was no disorienting feeling even now.

"Who's there?" she called. "Who are you?"

She didn't know if anybody would answer, but she called again anyway.


	5. Her Senseless Tears

Hikari drifted.

She'd lost her sense of direction some time ago…except for the cries she was following. She passed buildings and parks and water and stone and dirt – and she shivered upon a certain spot and sped up. Something told her she didn't want to be there.

She drifted back into cityscape: more buildings, more people who didn't look much bigger than ants, and she almost giggled again. But the crying was stronger now, and it plucked at her heartstrings and made her want to cry as well.

So she neither laughed nor cried. She just drifted towards the sound.

And, finally, she stumbled upon a funny looking cat wandering in the crowd and she knew, instinctively, that she'd found the crier.

She wasn't sure how she knew. The cat had no tears streaming down her face; rather, her eyes were dry. But the cat's heart cried. Hikari knew it; she could hear it so very loudly – and everything else around her sounded like it had been wrapped in plastic wrap: all soft and bubbly.

She drifted down and petted her fur like her mother or father or brother would pet hers when she was sick and in tears.

The cat didn't seem to feel it, or see her. Like everyone else. But Hikari continued anyway.

* * *

The cat drifted out of the crowd and went to that dark scary place, and Hikari followed. _Better than the apartment,_ she thought, she reasoned. _Better to the apartment covered in her blood._

The ground opened up and swallowed the cat. Hikari was a little slow and drifted through layers of soil.

That was frightening. She wondered if she'd died. If she'd been buried. If she was trapped beneath the soil and wouldn't be able to come back out again. Or maybe they'd cremated her.

She should know the answer, she thought. But she couldn't remember which doctrine they followed, or what her parents would want.

Maybe she wasn't dead at all.

But it wasn't like when she was sick and in bed, or at the hospital. She was heavy then. She floated now.

She floated out of the soil and took great, gulping breaths of stagnant air.

It stank, but it was better than the soil which was so suffocating. And she drank the air greedily. Then, when she could see something other than soil again, she started following the cries again.

They were stronger, somehow. Stronger, louder. They had a voice. They sounded female.

So the cat was a girl as well. Hikari smiled. She wondered if she'd make a nice pair with Miko.

But before she could find the cat again, the darkness exploded with light.

It was a nice light though. Still, it made her vision white for a moment.

The crying or the light. The light had gone. The crying was stronger.

She could find out about the light later, she decided. She followed the crying again.

And she found the cat.

She was alone in a small dark corner, shivering. She still didn't quite have tears in her eyes but she was nearer now. Her front was marred: a red, ugly welt that wasn't quite bleeding but was nearly there.

Hikari stretched out a hand and felt it gently. It burned under her hand. And when she drew back, she left a line of a different red.

She'd forgotten about the blood on her hands. Whoops.

She looked at herself. She was wearing her yellow dress and pink pants. The pants were better to wipe blood stains, she thought. She wiped her hands, leaving red mixing in with the pink.

There was no coppery smell. She was glad. She didn't like the smell of blood.

Once that was done, she felt the welt again. The cat didn't flinch, didn't feel her. And the cat looked a mix of sad, hurt and…lost?

Hikari regarded those blue eyes a moment, then nodded to herself. Yep, lost.

'Let's be friends,' she said.

The cat didn't hear her.

Still, they could be lost together.

And as a new friend, she had to find a way to take care of that painful-looking welt.

She looked at herself again. Slippers. Socks. Pants. Dress. Scarf –

She fingered her scarf. People wrapped up wounds with scarves. Though they were usually on the arms or the legs. But the cat was so small the scarf would wrap the torso well as well.

She pulled it off, then reconsidered when she saw all the blood at the back of it.

She felt the back of her neck again.

Her hand came back red again.

But she didn't hurt. She didn't feel dizzy.

She wondered if that made her a ghost or a spirit from a dream.

She hoped it was the latter. She didn't know how to make people stop crying if she'd died.


	6. Who Was Left Behind?

They had failed.

Gennai watched the dot disappear from his monitor in slowly dawning horror. He wasn't sure who to mourn first; the dead child or his dying world. The eighth was necessary, so important to the cause. The crests had originated from the one, they and their oppositions had come from the eighth and they had the power necessary to not only destroy Vamdemon, but what came after. Because all eight were necessary.

Harmony created peace. Discord allowed for despair. They all had known this, since the decree of Homeostasis. That was the way the world had survived from the first. Unite or die.

With one of their own gone, could the Chosen even consider that? They had to try, certainly.

He looked at the map once more. Should he contact them? Would they even know? There needed to be a backup plan. There were prophecies, hundreds of them, true or untrue. He needed to give them something, anything to hope for.

The screen started to beep and Gennai lifted his head, rubbing what remained of his hair. His eyes opened wide.

The dot had returned. It was faint, but the red light resonated softly.

How was this possible?

Well, regardless…

He pulled up a window and began to type. If there was some chance, any chance, it couldn't be wasted.

* * *

Koushiro closed out the window on his laptop screen and put his head in his hands. He wasn't sure which message was worse: Taichi-san's or Gennai's.

Hikari had been found killed, murdered. Taichi had seen claw marks, thicker than their cat's. And Gennai had said… said that the eighth was killed. There was only one creature who could have killed her like that.

Their comrade had been right under their nose the entire time, and now they had lost her.

However, Gennai mentioned a signal, warped, faint. The question was if it was real or fake, and if they should respond to it regardless.

He had to tell the others anyway. It was likely that Taichi-san hadn't told them and they needed to know, to regroup and think of a new plan to-

To _what_ , exactly? Find the signal and go on another wild goose chase?

Tentomon gave a worried buzz from his bed and Koushiro shook himself. He couldn't think like this. Realistic thought was one thing; pessimism was something else. If there was a faint signal, then something of Hikari-san could still exist. A ghost? He wasn't a fan of believing in ghosts. But sentimental feelings had given them power. He had nothing to lose by wondering.

Koushiro took a deep breath and went to his phone. "Tentomon," he said softly. "Can you stay here for a bit?"

His partner nodded. Even lacking a mouth, Koushiro could see the concern. "Koushiro-han..."

"I think I must be in shock right now," he heard himself say, and it was so different, his voice so far away. Maybe he was. "I'll be better in the morning." He didn't want to tell his partner he could be worse, but he guessed Tentomon could know that anyway.

Outside of his window, the fog rolled in, heavy as soup and full of cold. Just as the light had been ripped away, so too was the morning going to be pulled from the sky.

Another girl dropped to the concrete from a stranger's hands. Except this one was dead.


	7. Blood is An Acquired Taste

In the two days and a night he'd been in the human world, he'd found women a far more appetizing meal than men, but the news of the death of the eighth Child had made their blood even more delectable. And himself more careless as well.

But it mattered not. The world was his now; only the formalities of making it known remained. So what did it matter if he took a little too much nectar from some bees. The human world was filled with humans. So much so that he honestly hadn't expected they'd find the eighth Child in the time they had, even if they'd been restrained to the island called Japan.

Japan…what an odd name. It meant nothing in the language of the Digital World, but humans were strange that way. They had such a different way of living as well. Offering their bared necks to him, not even realising it could be the last thing they'd ever do. Cluttering together and yet breeding as though there was space for all of them.

He was doing them a favour, if one looked at it that way. The population of the human world could use a little…watering down.

And he was still hungry. _Another snack then._ It wouldn't hurt. There was plenty after all. If he ran out here he could go somewhere else. The world was like a breeding garden now. In fact, he might keep it that way. Blood was something that didn't exist in the Digital World, and what a shame that was as well. He'd certainly miss it when he returned home.

But that wouldn't be for a while. After all, those other children were in this world and he remembered how his bats had been evenly matched to that giant firebird of love. Those Chosen still needed to be taken care of. And he'd take great delight in doing it too.

* * *

It was all over the news the next morning. A teenager who'd been coming back from a late party was dead from some snake bite, it was said. And a woman heading to a midnight shift was rushed to hospital after being found unconscious with bite marks on her neck.

And then there was the murder of an eight year old girl. A girl they'd found with claw-like marks scraping through her neck. That one had the most detail, maybe because it had happened earlier and there'd been time to collect the information. The girl's name was Yagami Hikari, and she'd been watching television at home by the looks of things while her father was at work and her mother buying groceries. Her brother, who'd returned home to find her, had been out with friends. The Yagamis owned a cat, but it was unlikely the feline was the culprit. Her claws were too small. And it was equally unlikely anyone in the family had anything to do with it. But they didn't think of a digimon.

The thought of a snake slithering through Odaiba was forgotten in the midst of the gruesome picture it painted. But it was the gossip-worthy sort of gruesomeness. Who had a grudge against the Yagamis? Or was sick enough to kill a little girl like that? But they'd catch the person soon enough. And the news would grow boring again. And it would soon be forgotten, except by the people closest to that little girl.

But that wasn't to be, because she wasn't just any eight year old girl.


	8. A Blink Sends It Away

Tailmon threw up again.

Her vision blurred and wavered as the feeling continued to coarse through her, thick and watery. She made no sound, knowing better than to admit the pain in case someone was watching and could report it. She hadn't eaten much, only fruit that Wizarmon had sampled first and proven wasn't poisonous. Perhaps it was poisonous to cats. She didn't know, but she knew she had woken up to painful cramps that made her think she was bleeding below. And she wasn't, she was sure of that. She couldn't do anything about it if she was anyway. She was a giant talking cat with floppy ears, no human doctor would know what to do.

She crawled away from the mess in the grass to curl under another bush. Humiliating yes, but less so than if one of the other soldiers would see her there. PicoDevimon would never let her forget it if he saw. She wondered if she had enough status now that she could get away with spearing him through the face and replacing him with someone more competent. After all, _he_ had failed every mission the master had given him, while _she_ had killed the eighth child, even if their lord wanted to carry that out himself. It had saved him effort. Maybe that was where the vomiting came from, bruising.

Tailmon concentrated on her breathing, on clenching her paws beneath the claw gloves she had won. The gloves had been her proof to her master that she was loyal and worth keeping. Not many in that rank castle could say _that_. Then again, most of them were dead.

But now… she didn't know what they were going to do.

Conquering was obvious on the list. But this world was much larger than it seemed like any of them had anticipated, even their master. It wasn't going to be easy.

It wasn't likely she'd survive it either.

Thinking about that almost made her heave again. She had survived plenty. She wouldn't be destroyed by creatures she could easily kill! If anything, her master would kill her first.

She closed her eyes and drowned her thoughts. Then a scent wafted over her nose. Dinosaur and data. She winced and made herself climb up a tree. The less likelihood he could reach her, that his human could get close to her, the better, at least in her current state. For all she knew he was expecting divebomb attacks by now. Tailmon would in his position.

"Taichi..."

She heard the dinosaur, Agumon, hard to miss, whine and rolled her eyes. It was a whine of concern, like Wizarmon from the shadows. You could only care for someone when no one else was looking. That was a fact of life.

Or at least of her own life.

She watched the boy and his dinosaur, the expression of smugness and then horror that she had seen when they had briefly met was now replaced with desolation. He had blood on his cheek and dirt over his face. He had fallen once, and had probably only picked himself up through sheer willpower.

Only yesterday, this would have made her smile. It made the master's work much easier, to have his enemies be so crushed.

Now, however, it only brought a sense of crushing sorrow, and for the life of her, she had no idea why.


	9. The Cat Falls Out of the Tree

Taichi stumbled, fell, and got up again.

It would've been easier to lie down. More fruitful too, probably. Nothing was accomplished by wandering the town while drunk on tears and grief, except more grief.

Maybe he was looking for more grief.

'Taichi?'

Except Agumon was there. Agumon was keeping him somewhat rooted, somewhat aware. Because Agumon wouldn't let him walk into a wall or in front of a truck or off a bridge. He'd burn the bridge first.

If only Hikari had been the eighth child, then she would have had a protector like that as well.

'Taichi!'

His head smacked a tree this time. He heard a hiss, probably from his own lips, and then sunk to the base of it. 'Why couldn't she have been the eighth child?' He was sobbing suddenly. He thought he'd long run out of tears. 'Why couldn't she have had a protector like you? A friend like you?'

He cried and cried, and finally the crux of the agony came out. 'Why couldn't I have been a better brother?'

'Taichi...' Agumon was at a loss. Digimon died in their world, but their friends had made it through. And they didn't have families. Not like the human sense of the word. No mothers, no fathers, no sisters - no-one except maybe their partners they could ever think to grieve for like this. 'You couldn't have known...'

But if she'd been the eighth child, then they would have known. And why couldn't she have been? She remembered the digimon. Better than he did, in fact. She remembered Koromon's name while he'd had to be reintroduced. So she didn't have a digivice. So what? Maybe -

And he was crying anew, because maybe that thought process had killed her. 'Dammit!' He punched the tree. 'Dammit! Dammit! Dammit!'

There was scurrying above and he didn't realise it. Just punched the tree again. But Agumon did. And he aimed a pepper breath at the trees until a feline jumped out.

'Tailmon!'

Taichi still wasn't looking, but Agumon was. 'Taichi! Her gloves!'

She hissed at him, but Taichi was looking now, at Agumon's call.

The gloves that gave way to claws had stains of reddish-brown on them.


	10. Love and Pain Are the Same

Now, Tailmon was an agent of Vamdemon. That blood could have come from anyone or anything, especially due to these last few days. But Taichi knew, possibly by the look on her face and the stain still being there, what with it ought to have being washed away by now, who that blood belonged to.

"You," he sputtered out. " _You_ -"

Agumon had, thankfully, gotten quite past that issue. "Baby Flame!" Tailmon leaped to the side, almost breaking her new landing perch. The tree that she had been on started to smoke. She scowled, winced, but narrowed her eyes like it didn't happen. She would not cower to this Child.

"Come to take revenge on me?" The taunt was barely weakened by the roiling in her stomach and the lingering pain. "For another dead life?"

Taichi found his words and his fists. "You _killed my sister!"_ He was beyond rage at this point, but he could still word it, the pain, the grief, the emptiness. _"_ _Why?"_ He crouched as if to jump the tree and climb hims

Tailmon smirked. It was dry and humorless and he didn't care right now. "Well, I see why Knowledge isn't _your_ Crest."

Agumon's face turned red and he released a larger burst of fire. She dodged again. "How slow!" she taunted. Her tail swished and ears were twitching at a distant whirring whine. Ah humans were coming. Good. "You expect to end my master with such weak skills?"

Taichi didn't hear, couldn't hear. His Digivice began to shine, matching Agumon bright light for bright light.

Tailmon took that as her cue and leaped away, bolting off. Certainly, she could fight him fairly easily, even in this state. But her master would get angry again and they were getting enough attention as it was.

Also there was that nagging sense of unease again, that painful feeling of don't do, _hesitate_ , you are better that was still around from when before she had killed the human. She didn't like it. It needed to go away.

But if killing didn't get rid of it, what would?


End file.
